


Children's Crusade

by Blueskydancers



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:30:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueskydancers/pseuds/Blueskydancers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story is set in France during WW1, Sean is a sergeant in the West Kent regiment when a new young 2nd Lieutenant arrives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Children's Crusade

**Author's Note:**

> Each section of this story was originally posted separately as responses to various challenges or Christmas story collections on Livejournal. The lyrics and title of the story come from the song Children's Crusade by Sting.

_Pawns in the game are not victims of chance_  
 _Strewn on the fields of Belgium and France_  
 _Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade_  
 _All of those young lives betrayed_

**France: 24th December 1915**  
Sergeant Sean Bean of the 6th Royal West Kent Regiment leaned more heavily against the wall of the trench his platoon was occupying. He’d been assigned the watch until midnight, but the bright moonlight gave him a feeling of security. It would be really difficult for Fritz to try anything tonight. 

They’d come up to the front to relieve the Mercian Regiment only a week ago and had already been involved in a couple of skirmishes. Fortunately they had been minor, which was just as well because the regiment was still trying to absorb a number of new recruits, sent over to replace the casualties they’d suffered during the battle at Ypres earlier that year. As the senior sergeant, Sean had seventeen new men in his platoon and a new junior officer to look out for. Junior was the right word as Second Lieutenant, the honourable Orlando Bloom, seemed far too young to have been allowed to join the regiment.

Bloom, had nearly been the company’s first casualty earlier that day when, in a minor action, his rifle had jammed. It had only been Sean’s quick thinking, hauling Bloom down into a shell hole, which had saved him from being cut to pieces by enemy fire. After they had got back to the lines, Sean had ranted at the young officer for a whole five minutes about caring for his weapon and learning how to take it apart and reassemble it, anywhere and at any time. Moments later, realising his error, Sean had tried to apologise for his inappropriate tirade but the Lieutenant had ignored his apologies, leaving Sean certain he would be on a charge before morning.

A new batch of parcels from home had arrived yesterday and to Sean’s surprise there had been one there for him. His sister Elsie had sent him a home knitted scarf and a pair of gloves and a small plum pudding which he was going to share with his mates in the dugout when he came off duty. He was glad of his gifts in the bitter cold that had set in after weeks of rain. At least now the mud was frozen solid and they only had to watch out for frostbite.

Hearing movement along the trench, Sean looked at the sky, the moon was still high which meant it wasn’t time for him to be relieved just yet. Puzzled why anyone would be out and about in the chilling wind if they didn’t have to be, he looked over and saw a slim dark figure coming towards him. He recognised him at once. “Lieutenant Bloom, sir.” He stood roughly to attention and saluted.

“Sergeant Bean. Please stand easy. I’m not on duty at the moment but wanted to come and thank you for your help today. I know that without your quick action I would have been another war statistic.”

“It was nothing, sir.” Sean felt embarrassed. Officers, particularly when they were from the upper class, didn’t talk to the other ranks as equals and they certainly didn’t thank lowly sergeants for throwing them down on the ground and raving at them.

“It wasn’t nothing, you saved my life. And you were absolutely right which is why I’ve been practising all day. I even blindfolded myself for a time. I can now take my rifle and my pistol apart and put them together by touch.”

“That’s grand.” Sean stood silently while Bloom looked like he wanted to say something else but was struggling to find the right words.

Finally he blurted out, “A Christmas cake arrived for me this morning and I wondered if you would care to try a slice when you come off duty.” Sean must have looked shocked at the offer because Bloom went on, “I do realise that it might be considered inappropriate in some quarters but I wanted to thank you, in some small way, for saving my life.”

“But –“ Sean tried to protest but in a surprising show of authority Bloom cut him off. 

“Listen to me, Sergeant, now that Field Marshal Haig has taken over supreme command of the army I feel sure we will be seeing a lot more action. I hadn’t planned on joining the army quite so soon, if at all, after being sent down from university, but my father was rather insistent. I’ve looked at your service record and I know you have been in the army for many years. That you are still alive means you are a good soldier. The average life expectancy of a second lieutenant is only a month, so, if I am to win through, I need your help and advice.”

Before Sean could argue, his relief arrived, clattering noisily over the boards that covered the floor of the trench. When he saw the officer there, he came to an abrupt halt and saluted awkwardly, almost knocking his cap off. Trying to hide his smile, Sean said, “At ease, Williams. Lieutenant Bloom is just checking that all’s well.”

“Yes, Sergeant.” Williams remembered to keep his voice down to avoid alerting the enemy, Sean noted gratefully.

“Right, now you have the watch, so I’ll head off. Don’t forget to sound the alarm if you see anything. Corporal Harris is the next in line so he’ll pass it on and get the lads stood to.”

Sean waited until Williams had taken up his post and then gestured that Bloom should precede him along the trench.

~~~~~

Sean finished his piece of cake and when Orlando offered him more he shook his head. “No thank you, lad, I’m about stuffed. It’s good cake though.”

“My father’s cook would have made it months ago and sent it. She always spoilt me as a child.”

Something about the way Orlando spoke told Sean that there was more to his story, so he said, “I’ll wager your father asked her to do it.”

“It’s unlikely. I’ve only seen my father a handful of times in the last ten years.” Orlando’s face was closed and Sean knew he would learn nothing more about Orlando’s family until he wanted to reveal it.

“I’m sorry, lad.”

Orlando shook his head, “Never mind that, I’m more grateful than I can say that you’ve been willing to talk to me, Sean. I know I’m not the most obvious candidate to be a soldier but now that I’m here I want to do my best. I’m responsible for the platoon and a competent leader will give them a more than fighting chance.”

Sean stood up from the ammunition case where he’d been sitting and stretched his legs. “Nay, lad, don’t think about yourself like that. You’ve taken an important step in becoming a good officer by realising you don’t know everything. There aren’t many who would ask a sergeant for help.”

When he turned slightly, Sean saw lights out across no man’s land and his heart began to beat faster. Was there an attack imminent? It seemed unlikely as there had been no artillery and no alarm had been raised. Taking a small telescope out of his pocket, he looked towards the German lines. What he saw there made him pass the spyglass over to Orlando. “Take a look over towards the Fritz lines, lad.”

When he looked back at Sean, his eyes were shining and he was smiling. “There are three Christmas trees with candles on the edge of their trench.”

“Yes and I’d make the most of it, that’s Fritz’ way of telling us they want a truce for Christmas.”

“How do you know they’ll honour it?” Orlando asked eagerly.

“Because the same thing happened this time last year.” Sean couldn’t help but smile himself at the memory. “We met in no man’s land, us and some of the Germans; they gave us wine and brandy and we gave them cigarettes and chocolate. A few of the lads even played a football match with them. As I recall we won four three.”

“Truly?”

Sean nodded. “Yes, lad, truly. The way I see it, at Christmas time the ordinary blokes, maybe with a few exceptions, would rather be at home with their families than fighting. But to be honest I can’t see this truce lasting as long as the one last year did. We were all sick of fighting so it lasted nearly a week and threw high command into a real spin. A lot of the lads ended up on charges and they had to launch an artillery barrage to get us fighting again.”

“That explains the orders we were given to discipline anyone fraternising with the enemy. Before now I hadn’t really understood why there were emphasising it.” Bloom said thoughtfully.

Just then Sean heard the sound of men’s voices coming from the German lines. The sound was muted but the night was so still he had no trouble hearing the familiar tune. Suddenly one of the men on their side joined in and soon, all of them were singing, even Orlando. 

Sean sighed; he knew nothing apart from the army so that was where his destiny lay. Orlando, on the other hand, had a future away from this senseless slaughter. Seeing him, with his eyes closed, as he enjoyed the music, Sean vowed to ensure that this gentle man, who shouldn’t be part of the brutality of the Western Front, survived to see the end of the war. 

_Corpulent generals safe behind lines_  
 _History's lessons drowned in red wine_  
 _Poppies for young men, death's bitter trade_  
 _All of those young lives betrayed_  
 _All for a Children's Crusade_

**France: July 1916**  
Children, nothing more than children. Sergeant Sean Bean looked around at the men sharing the forward trench with him and struggled to understand how those in charge could be so uncaring of human life. Sean’s battalion, the 6th of the Royal West Kent Regiment had lost twenty officers and more than five hundred other ranks since the beginning of the Somme campaign, two weeks ago and the replacements being sent up to the front were far too young and inexperienced. He’d been a soldier for nigh on twenty years, serving in Ceylon and India before being transferred to the newly formed 6th after the declaration of hostilities in 1914, but even that experience hadn’t prepared him for the out and out slaughter he’d witnessed in the past two weeks. He’d lost track of the bodies and body parts the medics had shipped back behind the lines.

‘It’ll all be over by Christmas’ that’s what they’d been told on the boat over to France, but now two years on, the end of the war was never mentioned. Too tired to make more effort to get comfortable, Sean rested his head on his bent knees and closed his eyes, if he even thought about the possibility of going home, he’d go mad. 

He must have dozed for a while before a disturbance further along the trench woke him. The youngsters around him fidgeted nervously but Sean wasn’t worried. The movement was friendly, if it had been the enemy trying a sneak attack there would have been a lot more noise. That he’d reached that conclusion without any real conscious though bothered him slightly, but he supposed it was his soldier’s instinct that had kept him alive this long and to ignore it now would be tempting fate.

The unrest grew closer and Sean hauled his bone weary body into a more upright stance, he’d like to see anyone manage to stand at attention after fourteen solid days of fighting. Soon, as Sean had expected, the dark head of his platoon commander, appeared amongst the men. Sean watched as his captain shared a comforting word or gesture with each of the men and felt a sense of pride. The honourable Orlando Bloom had arrived in France a scant seven months previously, straight out of university, a wet behind the ears 2nd lieutenant. But, to the boy’s credit, he’d realised that Sean had the knowledge and experience he needed to learn how to command successfully. So he’d watched and listened, and managed to survive when the average life expectancy of a 2nd lieutenant was less than a month. Now, he’d been promoted to acting Captain, something Sean looked on with almost fatherly pride.

“Good evening, Sergeant Bean.” The words were softly spoken and the accent refined and if he hadn’t heard the way that the lad could bellow above the sound of the guns during a push, Sean would never have credited that the young man here was a bloody good officer. It didn’t help that, apart from the hastily applied evidence of rank, Bloom looked as grimy and dishevelled as the rest of them.

“Evening, sir.”

The young officer kept walking along the trench and indicated by the tilt of his head that he’d like Sean to accompany him. This was something Sean was accustomed to; they talked a lot, just the two of them.

They walked in silence for several yards and when they came to a stretch that was temporarily unoccupied, Bloom burst out, “The bastards! The bloody bastards!”

Nonplussed Sean said, “Steady, lad. I’m thinking you’ll need to be a bit more specific here, as far as I remember there are an awful lot of bastards in this man’s army.

Bloom wiped tired eyes with a grubby hand, leaving smears of mud across his face. He was pale, Sean noticed, with dark circles under his eyes.

“Sorry, Sean.”

There was an ease between them that belied the differences in their age and station in life, resulting in a mutual respect and, once out of earshot of the men, they were comfortable on first name terms.

“So, the bastards on this particular occasion are?”

“The High Command. I’ve just been briefed by the Colonel that General Haig wants us to attack again tomorrow. And I know he’s going to keep sending us in until we gain the ground he wants or there aren’t any of us left alive.”

“Hush, lad.” Sean patted Orlando’s shoulder, conscious he would like to offer more comfort but that they were in plain view. “What else can we do? We’re soldiers and we follow orders.”

“I know, Sean. But I’ve just finished writing another five letters to families who’ve lost someone and I don’t know how many more times I can stomach writing about a glorious sacrifice, when there is absolutely nothing glorious about what happens out there.” He gestured beyond the trench wall and Sean didn’t have to close his eyes to envisage the horrors of No Man’s Land. The endless mud, pock marked with shell holes and criss-crossed with a maze of cruel barbed wire was imprinted in his mind. He knew they’d both seen too many of their comrades ripped apart by machine gun fire or left hanging bleeding from the wire.

Silence hung between them, familiar and somehow comforting to Sean. “When are we going over then?”

“At dawn, there’ll be a five minute artillery barrage and then we go over the top.”

“No change then?”

Orlando smiled at him and once again Sean was struck by the absurdity of someone of his artistic nature and gentle temperament being here and being forced to kill in order to survive. 

“They have no imagination, our generals.” Orlando laughed softly, “So what would you do differently, Sean, if you were in charge?”

Sean thought for a moment, as much as he wanted to leave France and the army, if he did that he’d lose any time he had left with Orlando. Outside of the Army they would have nothing in common. Sean had long ago stopped thinking about fighting for his king and country. Now he fought for the men in his platoon and this special man. Sean vowed that he would move heaven and earth to make sure Orlando made it home.

Remembering he’d been asked a question he managed, “I have no idea, lad. Mayhap I’d just have a meeting with the Kaiser himself and call the whole thing off just so I could send our lads home.”

Orlando looked thoughtful, “Where’s home, Sean? And is there a Mrs Bean to go home to? If there is, you’ve never mentioned her.”

Sean’s heart began to pound painfully in his chest; the questions were getting too close to comfort. How could he tell this amazing young man that the fairer sex had never held any appeal for him? And that now that he had met Orlando his infrequent liaisons with men would never be the same.

Sean risked a glance up and saw him waiting patiently for an answer. He also thought he saw something else there, maybe a flash of understanding?

“Sheffield. I was born and raised in Sheffield, but moved down south when I enlisted at sixteen. I’ve no wife or children because leading a soldier’s life means I’d be away all the time.”

“I can understand that.”

“So what about you? Do you have a fiancée waiting patiently for you at home?”

Sean was surprised when Orlando dropped his gaze and stammered, “No. That’s to say, there was a bit of a scandal whilst I was up at Cambridge, one of the professors… Um… I mean I had to leave early and then my father rushed me in to the army. So no, no fiancée.”

Sean was shocked by the openness of Orlando’s reply and knew he would have to think on it some more, but dare he think that there was a glimmer of hope? 

Looking away to give Orlando time to collect himself, through the scattered clouds in the sky Sean saw the moon beginning to set and nodded in that direction, “Only a couple of hours till dawn.”

Orlando nodded and pushed himself up from where he was leaning against the trench wall. “Oh well I suppose I should do another round of the men, make sure they’re all ready to go.” He turned and looked straight at Sean, “I’m not sure how many more times I am going to be able to do this,” he sighed, “They follow me and I see them fall like leaves in the wind. All for nothing.” 

Abruptly he seemed to remember where he was, he shook himself, “Sorry, Sean. I didn’t mean to whine, I know I wouldn’t have come this far if it hadn’t been for your help and advice.”

Realising how important this moment was, Sean pulled himself to attention and saluted, “Thank you, Sir. I’d just like to say that you are one of the best officers I’ve ever had the pleasure of serving under,” he chuckled, “And that’s nothing to do with any help I’ve given you.”

~~~~~

Sean would never grow accustomed to the way time either flew past or crawled when you were waiting for the signal to advance. This time it flew. Before he had time to finish his preparations and get his thoughts in order the artillery had begun, making everyone duck down and cover their ears against the awful noise. He could feel the concussion from the explosions through the soles of his boots and he wondered again why more soldiers weren’t driven deaf. The silence when the shells stopped was in some ways more terrifying.

With his ears still ringing, he made ready to climb the rough wooden ladder out of the ten foot deep trench. He looked around to check on Orlando’s location. He wasn’t going to break his promise to look out for the younger man.

He saw Orlando move, testing the rungs of the nearest ladder while he waited to lead the men and Sean was once again reminded of the young man’s bravery. Copying his actions, Sean gathered his men around him and waited for the signal to begin the push. As usual there was some delay while the troops got themselves organised, but all too soon they were climbing the wooden ladders and sliding over the top of the mound of earth into the alien landscape.

There was silence for a few moments and Sean prayed that the artillery had really done its work and had wiped out the German machine gunners, but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the firing began. Man after man fell to the onslaught and Sean concentrated on keeping hold of his rifle and moving forward, trying to weave from side to side but being prevented from doing so by the thick mud that clutched at his boots.

He could see the machine gun emplacement that was doing so much damage to his lads and headed towards it, determination to stop it filling him. As he drew closer to the guns he felt more and more exposed. Orlando was still advancing, his revolver drawn, shouting at the troops and keeping them moving forward. Sean had seen bad officers finish with a stampede of retreating men on their hands when they were under fire of this severity. Sean’s admiration for his young captain increased, he’d won the men’s loyalty. They would do anything for him it seemed.

His concentration focused on the machine gun, Sean missed the moment when Orlando fell, it was only when he saw the men begin to falter that he realised that something had happened. Knowing that he stood no chance of reaching him without silencing the gun, he made a decision. After he had taken care of the machine gun he would get to Orlando, find out how badly he was injured and then get him to medical care. Dazed, Sean was barely aware of throwing a grenade towards the emplacement and seeing the German soldiers there fly apart as it exploded. 

It was only when he reached Orlando, lying face down in the mud that Sean began to be once more aware of his surroundings and realised that he had been wounded himself. A bullet had clipped his shoulder and though he was bleeding, he could still move the joint reasonably well. Orlando though, was in a bad way; Sean could see the damage easily. What looked like a piece of shrapnel was still embedded in the middle of his back and Sean prayed that his spine hadn’t been damaged. Knowing that there was nothing he could do here, he ignored the bullets, whining around him as though they were insects, and carefully picked Orlando up eliciting a groan of pain from the injured man. Resting the limp body across his shoulders so that he could move easily, Sean began his journey back to safety. Moving steadily in a crouching stagger, his entire focus on getting back behind the lines, Sean headed back the way he had come minutes earlier. 

As he was able to take more notice, he saw that the advance had already been broken and the survivors were making their way back, the uninjured helping those worse off than themselves. 

Resisting the temptation to run as he knew he’d draw more attention to himself and most likely dump Orlando back in the mud, Sean made steady progress. He was ten feet from the trench edge, when amidst the din he heard the sound of a single shot. Knowing somehow that the bullet was for him, he leaped for safety and just as the bullet ploughed into his hip joint and his legs gave way, he managed to throw Orlando clear.

Sean saw the limp form slither over the mound at the front of the trench and hoped to hell that someone down below would have their head on straight enough to get medical help for their captain, as the pain hit and he lost consciousness.

~~~~~

**Four Months Later**  
Sean looked out of the window nervously, the letter crumpled in his hands from constant re-reading. He knew the words contained within it by heart.

30th October 1916,

Dear Sergeant Bean,

I am very glad to hear that you are much recovered from your wounds, I am also very happy at the news, directed to me by the Colonel, that you have been awarded the Military Medal. It goes without saying that I believe the honour is well deserved and I would be churlish not to thank you when the heroic deed you undertook led to my safe return from France.

I too am getting on, with only a few problems still needing to be cleared up from my injuries, which would have been much worse, if not fatal, without your kind intervention.

I will move onto the real reason for this letter, though wanting to thank you for my deliverance is no small thing. With the untimely death of my father, my mother having died some ten years past as you know, I have now been confirmed into the title to the family estate. I am fortunate to have an income which will see me comfortable but the problem I have identified is that the estate needs a manager, as I am still not fit enough to undertake this role myself. I am aware that you have no experience of running an estate but am absolutely positive that your experience as a sergeant in His Majesty’s army makes you ideal for the role. I would be indebted to you if you could find the time to visit me in Canterbury. I will send a car to the station to meet you if you will but advise me which train you will catch from London Bridge, and then we can discuss the details of the post and the remuneration in an easier setting.

I very much hope that you can see your way clear to meeting with me.

Yours sincerely

Orlando Bloom

The train began to slow and Sean heard the conductor shouting, “Next stop Canterbury. All change for Canterbury.” With his heart in his mouth he stood and gathered his belongings from the overhead rack in the 3rd class compartment. He had come because he didn’t know what else to do. His army pension would not keep him and because he still found it hard to walk long distances, any other work was beyond him. There were too many injured men back from France competing for any half chance at employment.

Scrambling awkwardly down from the carriage he limped towards the exit, his few possessions contained in the dilapidated leather satchel held in one hand. As he reached the ticket collector, he saw a smartly dressed man in a chauffeur’s uniform waiting there. The man’s eyes lit up when he saw Sean and he was almost vibrating on the spot. “Sergeant Bean?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Sean had barely made it past the barrier when his bag was taken from him and he was steered towards a shiny Rolls Royce.

“Lord Bloom has sent me to meet you and welcome you to Canterbury. His Lordship will be so happy to see you; he’s been quite put out by the wait for you to arrive.” 

All the way in the car Jenkins chattered on and Sean soon learned that the Jenkins family had worked for the Bloom family for at least three generations, that young master Orlando had been a handful as a child and heartbroken when his mother had passed away. His father unable to cope with his grief had bundled the young lad off to school and then to University and though Jenkins didn’t mention it, Sean remembered Orlando’s allusion to some scandal which has necessitated his being sent down.

All too soon the car turned off the main road and into a driveway, at the end of which Sean could see a house fit to rival any. The driveway ran through green grassy fields with trees dotted across it. The air of peace about the estate was marked and welcome to him. He knew he needed to calm himself before meeting Orlando again. 

The car stopped outside the house and Sean was surprised when Jenkins told him to go up to the front door of the house as he had expected to gain entry though the servants’ door.

Nervously, Sean reached the top of the grand staircase and before he could ring the bell, the door opened and a figure in a butler’s uniform was there to greet him.

“Good afternoon, Sir. I am Edwards, Lord Bloom’s butler, please come in. His Lordship is in the library as there is a fire there and the room is warmer.”

Without a word Sean followed, totally astounded by the surroundings. He knew that Orlando came from an upper class background, but he certainly hadn’t known that he was the heir to what appeared to be a large family fortune.

Edwards stopped just outside a highly polished wooden door, “I’ll leave you to go in by yourself, sir. If you could let Lord Orlando know that I’ll have tea sent in right away?” 

Sean agreed automatically. Whilst the behaviour of Orlando’s staff had been perfectly proper, there was an air of informality that did not fit with what he knew of the upper classes but which, to him, was completely Orlando.

Sean knocked softly on the library door and without waiting for a response, turned the handle. The room was warm and cosy and he instantly felt much more at ease. He scanned the room and then he saw Orlando, sitting quietly in a wheelchair, his hands holding a book that was now resting in his lap. He was pale and thin, but the smile that twisted his mouth when he saw Sean was without any artifice. He spoke one word, “Sean.”

Sean was across the room and crouching awkwardly beside the chair in a heartbeat. Without any conscious thought his mind was made up, he would take the position of estate manager because Orlando thought he could do it, and right now he knew that all he wanted was to remain by this man’s side for as long as he was needed. If their friendship turned into anything else, then Sean would be grateful and if it didn’t, then he would still treasure every moment.

**February 1918  
** Stillwell Park, County of Kent  
It was late, past midnight by Orlando’s reckoning, when he turned to his side so that he could watch over the sleep of the man sharing his bed. One hand stroked over the softness of the sheets beneath him a contrast to how his body ached, but in the best way he could imagine. 

The darkness of the room was challenged only by the flame from a single oil lamp that stood on a small dresser to the side of the bed. The flickering light was just enough to illuminate Sean’s face relaxed in sleep, a slight smile on his lips.

Resisting temptation to touch Orlando contented himself with looking and weighing up his good fortune. His own sexual experience limited to fellating his professor at Oxford, it had taken Orlando months to persuade Sean to go further than some minor caresses. Now though, they had finally taken the ultimate step. Nor had it been a hurried or sordid affair. With the final barriers between them gone, Sean had taken his time, preparing Orlando carefully and then filling him with his hard flesh. 

They had moved together slowly and deeply until they had experienced the ultimate pleasure together. The sensations had been indescribable, leaving Orlando feeling as though he had been worshipped rather than fucked. He smiled, sure that Sean would be shocked he knew such a word, but the war had changed Orlando for good.

Letting his thoughts drift, he knew that some might question what he considered good fortune, after all he’d been separated from his mother at an early age when he had been packed off to boarding school and had not even been sent for when she was taken ill. He had only been brought home from the hated place for her funeral and had been sent back again before he’d even had the chance to come to terms with his loss. His father, paralysed by his own grief, had withdrawn from his sensitive, only son and determined to make a man of him. 

Given half a chance, Orlando would have tried to explain that cutting a person off from any human kindness wasn’t the way to build character; all it did was produce an unfeeling automaton whose one aim was to find a substitute for that kindness. 

Orlando had found what he thought was love in his second year at Cambridge. An ill fated liaison with one of his professors had been covered up quickly and discreetly when it became known to the university council. After all, his father was a Lord and the establishment always stood together. The army had followed, thanks also to his father’s influence and he’d been posted to France as a green second lieutenant in the last month of 1915.

Against the odds, he’d survived seven months of the hell known as the Western Front thanks to the man now lying beside him. 

A career soldier Sean had taken the terrified boy under his wing and had turned him into a competent officer. But even Sean’s care and advice hadn’t been able to stop the piece of enemy shrapnel that had lodged in Orlando’s back, effectively finishing his war for him. By risking his own safety and being wounded into the bargain, Sean had saved his life. 

Orlando had been shipped home, paralysed from the waist down, with the diagnosis that he would most likely never regain the use of his legs. A little more than a week after his homecoming, his father had retreated to his study with a pistol. Whether it had been overpowering feelings of guilt or just his unexpressed grief that had brought him to that pitch Orlando would never know.

It had taken several weeks more until he was well enough to begin to take on the running of the estate but the determination that Sean had instilled in him, in France, had come to the fore and he had determined to prove his doctors wrong. He hadn’t though been too stubborn to know that he needed the help of someone he could trust. With his limited mobility the full task was going to be beyond him for a while yet.

He’d kept in touch with the battalion and knew Sean’s whereabouts because he had intended to write and thank him but it had taken less than an hour's thought before he wrote to offer Sean the role of Estate Manager. It had been November 1916 when Sean had agreed to the offer which changed both their lives beyond all recognition.

Orlando smiled to himself. Only knowing the army meant that Sean had never seen an estate the size of Stillwell Park let alone helped to run one but his experience as a sergeant meant that he knew how to organise and manage men. It had taken some time for them to find a mutually agreeable way of organising the tasks that needed to be undertaken to ensure that the estate began once more to pay its way. Orlando hadn’t realised until he was visited by his father’s solicitor, a week after the small, private funeral that the estate had been neglected for many years and was in debt. But then again he hadn’t been living there for a long time, his father had seen to that.

At first Sean tried to do everything himself to avoid Orlando over exerting himself. It had only been after an argument of mammoth proportions when Orlando had forgotten himself sufficiently to shout at Sean that they had declared a truce. Orlando had promised not to push himself too hard, for while Sean supported his need to prove the doctors wrong by walking again, he was also worried that Orlando would weaken himself irreversibly. Sean had agreed to trust Orlando and let him do as he wished on the understanding that he would rest when tired. 

Once those conditions were agreed their partnership had gone from strength to strength. Looking out for each other for seven months in France had guaranteed an unquestioned trust between them but learning to live and work together, each utilising their own skill and talents, had taken longer. Finally, nearly a year after Sean's arrival Orlando had begun walking again. Three months later he was still improving and had even begun to ride again.

There had also been the not inescapable problem of Orlando’s attraction to Sean. It had taken perseverance but he’d finally managed to get Sean to admit that he also preferred males and thought of Orlando as more than a fellow soldier or an employer. It had then been several more months before Sean would believe the attraction was mutual and that Orlando would really like to take things further. 

Tonight, the evening of Valentine’s Day, Orlando had made his plans and had succeeded in seducing Sean into his bed. They had finally been joined body and soul and Orlando felt pleasingly sore and completely comfortable within himself for the first time in his life. 

Sean stirred and Orlando waited, hoping that his lover would wake but instead Sean turned, moving to face Orlando.

Whether it was the movement or something sixth sense, Sean didn’t settle back into sleep and instead his eyes opened. Seeing Orlando lying there wakeful obviously sent him into a panic. “What’s wrong?”

Sliding more fully down the bed and leaning over to give Sean a quick kiss on the nose, Orlando shook his head, “Nothing, absolutely nothing. I’m just lying here thinking of my good fortune.”

Sean snorted, “Good fortune! I suppose having money and property could be counted good fortune but having an uncaring bastard for a father and then being told you might not ever walk again, that’s not good fortune!”

“I happen to know that my grandparents were married, so bastard is not something you can call my father. Unemotional, uncaring, repressed those words are all perfectly true.” Orlando thought for a moment, “I think he tried to care for me but mother’s death was something he couldn't cope with.”

“Stupid bugger. He missed out on something very special.”

“It worked out well in the end, if he were still here you couldn’t be.”

“I know. I’m still not sure how the other staff are going to take us being close like.”

“They are all trustworthy – you know that.”

“Yes I know but won’t they resent me? Resent that I am more likely to have influence over you?”

“Oh Sean, you’re so naïve at times, they have known that from the moment you walked through the door. They all worship the ground you walk on because they know you saved my life. I’m sure they’d all offer you their first born children if it meant you would promise to stay here with me.”

Sean’s lazy smile made Orlando’s pulse race, and he pulled Orlando closer, turning him so that his back was against Sean’s chest, his arm warm against Orlando’s waist. “And you call me naïve…” Came the rumble in his ear.

“What?” Orlando tried to turn to face Sean but he held him still.

“How could you think I’d ever leave you, especially now. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world

“Good. I want you to be here for always, Sean.”

“I will be, lad, I will be.” Sean gave him a shake, “But now go to sleep. We’ve got lots to do around the estate tomorrow and I would really like to make love to you again in the morning and doing that while you're still asleep would feel very wrong.”

Relaxing back into his lover’s hold, Orlando finally let his eyes close. He was warm, pleasantly sated and Sean would be there when he woke in the morning. What more could he wish for?


End file.
